


Morning After

by the_moonmoth



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-25
Updated: 2009-10-25
Packaged: 2017-10-12 16:59:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/127058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_moonmoth/pseuds/the_moonmoth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the battle, taking stock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning After

The early morning sunlight shines muted warmth through the fabric of the tent, burnishing Arthur's skin. Merlin props himself up on one elbow and pulls their thin coverlet back, revealing more of Arthur's skin.

Reaching out, he runs a hand down the sweep of Arthur's back and back up over the swell of his arse, careful to avoid the bruises showing livid in blues and purples. Outside the distant sound of a horse whickering floats across the camp, but an otherwise exhausted silence presses them into their private space here.

Leaning over, Merlin kisses Arthur's shoulder, taking in his golden hair, the cut on his cheek, his slightly parted mouth, and is filled with gratitude for another battle won.

"I'm keeping you," he whispers, as much a threat to others as a promise to Arthur, the breath of his words ghosting over Arthur's neck raising goose pimples. Arthur makes a soft, happy sound and Merlin considers this for a moment before tracing his fingers down Arthur's spine, following it with his mouth.

Arthur sighs again, somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, and Merlin smiles to himself. Reaching the small of his back, Merlin stops for a moment to reposition himself, kneeling up and placing his hands more possessively on Arthur's hips, squeezing gently before leaning back down. He mouths a notch low on Arthur's spine and Arthur moans, stirring.

"Merlin?" he asks, voice half smothered by the pillow but still managing to sound hoarse in that post-shouting-orders-all-day way that never fails to get Merlin hard.

"Mm?" Merlin replies, moving lower, laving the hard knot of bone with his tongue.

Arthur doesn't really respond to that, groaning as Merlin teases his coccyx. His skin is warm and smells of sweat and sleep and Arthur, and Merlin loves him an awful lot in this moment, arching up against Merlin's grip to meet his slowly descending tongue.

Reaching down, Merlin parts Arthur's cheeks and sweeps his thumbs down, teasing the skin around his hole, and Arthur moans again, shifting against his bedroll, rubbing himself against the rough fabric. Merlin pauses long enough to blow cool air against painfully sensitised skin then slowly, slowly drags his tongue over Arthur's entrance.

The sound Arthur makes is nothing short of obscene, and Merlin has to let go one of his hands to get a grip around his own cock, hard and slick at the tip. Thumbing himself, he licks delicately around Arthur's hole with just the tip of his tongue, ignoring Arthur's wordless pleas for more contact, wanting to prolong the torture, wanting Arthur to forget the aches and pains and faces of those who won't be coming home.

And so he continues with slow, gentle caresses that are never quite enough until they're both shuddering, skin slick with sweat, the sounds of the birds and the tent flapping in the morning breeze drowned out by their breathing.

Gasping, Arthur reaches back behind him and tangles his hand in Merlin's hair, not pushing, just winding his fingers in, holding on, and the gesture is so intimate that Merlin can't bear it anymore. He turns his face to the side, pressing a kiss to the inside of Arthur's wrist, then turns back and swipes his tongue down _hard_ , pressing in with the tip. Arthur's breath catches thin and high in his throat and his back arches as he grinds himself down into the bedroll. Merlin does it again, and Arthur cries out and comes.

He's so hard he can barely think anymore, and acts more on instinct, a need for contact, pushing himself up and parting Arthur's cheeks again with both hands, rubbing his cock between them, sliding easily with his own saliva.

"I hope you're going to clean that up," Arthur says afterwards, eyes still closed.

"Anyone would think I was your servant," Merlin complains good naturedly, still catching his breath and murmurs a couple of words, feeling the buzz of his magic moving through him.

With what looks like a great effort, Arthur turns his head to face Merlin, cheeks flushed pink and blue eyes still bleary. "No one with half an ounce of sense," he mutters. He throws a heavy arm over Merlin's waist and pulls him closer, half trapping him with his body, burying his nose in Merlin's neck. "Anyone can see I'm a slave to your perversions."

"Oh, I'll stop whenever you like, just say the word, Sire," Merlin says, smiling to himself.

Arthur grunts in a way that is probably meant to be dubious but sounds more like a contended purr.

"As a responsible King, I couldn't possibly-" he breaks off around a yawn, "-possibly expose the kingdom to your depravity. It's a burden I must bear," he says solemnly, then follows it up with a sweet kiss to the junction of Merlin shoulder and neck.

Merlin sighs happily, and thinks about a retort, then thinks better of it and goes back to sleep with Arthur warm and solid at his side.


End file.
